The Virgin
by charlieeanne
Summary: The first story in "'The' Verses" series. Anyone who knew Sherlock could never imagine him being in a relationship. However, as John and Sherlock grow closer, John begins to realise his partner's aversion to relationships and sex may not be as he first assumed. See warnings inside.
1. Demons Haunt Me At Night

**_This is my first time writing and publishing Sherlock fanfiction, and I come into this world apprehensive and nervous. I have always been a massive Sherlock fan, but writing him daunts me, as I want to do the fandom justice._**

 ** _'The' Verses will be a collection of short stories that deal with our favourite boys overcoming and living with struggles such as suicide, self harm, sexual assault, domestic abuse and drug addiction. I imagine they will all be Johnlock._**

 ** _This song that helped me write this story was Johnny Stimson – Holding On._**

 _The first story in "'The' Verses" series._ _Anyone who knew Sherlock could never imagine him being in a relationship. However, as John and Sherlock grow closer, John begins to realise his partner's aversion to relationships and sex may not be as he first assumed._

 _Warnings for mentions of sexual assault (non-explicit), domestic abuse and sexual content._

 **The Virgin**

* * *

Anyone who knew Sherlock could never imagine him being in a relationship. It was hard enough to find people who would put up with his personality to be a friend, let alone more. It is not as if he did not have people interested. Women and men had both tried, eliciting no reciprocation from the consulting detective. From the very beginning, John had been told Sherlock was married to his work, and that was the end of any conversations involving relationships. John had assumed Sherlock was not interested in such trivial things. Thinking about it, Sherlock would never be able to find someone on his intellectual level anyway, so what was the point settling with some one "boring". Someone like him, the doctor thought.

The first time John realised he had feelings for the eccentric man was when he had a bomb strapped to his body. Nearly dying has this awful ability of making you realise your deepest feelings, even if you had not even remotely realised they were there in the first place. The look in Sherlock's eyes had haunted John's dreams, because they had almost looked like the detective had felt them same. But no, as soon as they left the swimming pool, Sherlock was acting as nothing had ever happened. Almost daily John had to remind himself that Sherlock was married to his work.

It was a few months later that the unthinkable happened.

John was used to nightmares, they were much less frequent since he moved into Baker Street, but they still happened. Waking up in a cold sweat, the soldier took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Relaxing again, John heard a scream from downstairs. The doctor shot out of bed, grabbing his gun before creeping down the steps. There was no one in the living room, and more noises from Sherlock's room told him the commotion was coming from in there. He listened closely, but he could only hear Sherlock's low voice. With military precision, John quickly swung open the door and pointed his gun into the room. All John found was a stressed detective in the centre of his bed, alone, and pulling at his sheets desperately. It seemed even the genius had nightmares.

Sherlock screamed again before mumbling nonsense John could not make out. Putting his gun down on the bedside table, John ignored his rational side and leant over to wake the detective, bracing himself for the younger man to lash out as he woke. Instead, as John touched the younger man, Sherlock jolted in a panic and recoiled to the edge of the bed.

"Sherlock?" John asked to see if Sherlock had woken up.

"Don't." Sherlock pleaded in no more than a whisper.

"It's ok Sherlock, it's John. Just John." The doctor said in a soothing manner, trying to calm the detective out of his nightmare.

John slowly sat on the edge of the bed, keeping as far away from Sherlock as possible to give him the space. The detective began to writhe under the sheets again, just as John hoped he was waking up. Learning from his mistake, John did not reach out for the younger man again, but instead repeated "you're ok" and "its just John" in calming tones.

Sherlock's breath finally began to even out, his body relaxing into the bed.

Hoping this was the last of the nightmare and not wanting to wake the detective now he was finally in a peaceful sleep, John quietly eased himself off the bed and crept towards the door.

"Joh-n?" Came a confused, braking voice from behind the doctor. Turning around, John's eyes met with Sherlock's. The usually guarded expression was so breathtakingly full of emotion that it truly shocked John. The soldier felt like he was imposing a private moment, he had never even imagined the detective could look so vulnerable.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, I tried not to wake you." John breathed. Even though Sherlock was now awake, it seemed wrong to speak above a whisper.

Sherlock began to shakily pull himself up in the bed, falling back against headboard with a loud exhale.

"It's quite alright, John." Sherlock stated, his usual mask of indifference falling back into place.

" Do y-, um, do you, maybe, you know, want to talk about it?" John stuttered. The soldier was completely in the deep end. The self-proclaimed sociopath had just displayed over one hundred times the amount of emotion John thought he was ever capable of.

"I wouldn't want to bother you with such trivialities. Thank you for your concern though." Sherlock said with disinterest, however, the younger man's eyes did not meet John's.

"Right." John said, unsure of how to continue the conversation. Somehow it didn't feel right to leave. Sherlock's pulse was still elevated, even though he was trying to cover it up by breathing in small, controlled pants. His eyes were darting around the room, and it looked as if he was holding back tears. Well it would have if John thought Sherlock was capable of such 'sentiment'.

Having had enough of John staring at him across the room, Sherlock shakily pulled himself to the edge of the bed. He was about to make a start for the living room when he realised he was naked.

"Honestly, I'm fine, John. Go back to sleep."

John swallowed, trying not to look at his very naked, very male housemate. _Now is not the time, John._ He reprimanded himself.

"You don't look very 'fine', Sherlock." John lectured. "Look, you don't need to talk about it, but you do need to go back to sleep. You haven't slept since we got the last case four days ago."

"Irrelevant. I've functioned with a lot less before now." Sherlock stated stubbornly, still sat at the end of the bed, clutching the sheet around him.

"I don't care, I wasn't there to make you sleep then. Come on, lay back down." John pressed. The younger man really did need to sleep. He was as white as a ghost.

Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not going to be able to sleep again now."

John noticed how quiet and soft his voice went, and understood the detective wasn't trying to be difficult. Of all people, John knew the fear of going back to sleep after a nightmare. Not even just the fear, but how difficult it was to let your body relax, to become completely vulnerable when you had just has all the physiological reactions of being in grave danger. He desperately wanted to know what the great Sherlock Holmes could ever fear. But it wasn't his place to push.

"I understand." John started. At this Sherlock's eyes finally darted to the soldiers. "I really do. But it's only going to be worse the next time you sleep if you don't get fully rested now."

Sherlock could see in John's eyes. He really did understand.

"So what do you suggest, Doctor?" Sherlock tried to joke. He desperately hoped John had a way to help him.

John tried to think. The soldier knew what he needed in times like this. The only thing that seemed to work was either a high dose of sleeping tablets, or someone sleeping beside him. The feeling of someone beside him reminded his unconscious self that he wasn't in the setting of his dream. Just the comfort of knowing someone was close to stop the nightmare alone was enough to allow him to relax and fall asleep. And anyway, drugs were out of the question for Sherlock.

"Lay down." John said again, moving to the opposite side of the bed that Sherlock was on, picking up the discarded duvet on the floor.

"I'm not a child, John." Sherlock pouted, eyes widening at the realisation that John was climbing into bed with him.

"Well you sure act like it sometimes." John joked whilst placing the duvet over himself, arranging it so Sherlock could easily slip underneath it too. To save the detectives modesty, John lay on top of the sheet, using just the duvet for warmth.

"I-" Sherlock stuttered. The younger man did not seem to know what to do. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed; shivering slightly due to the fact only a thin sheet covered him.

"I'm not going to touch you again. I'm going to lie on this side and you will lie on that side. But if you have a nightmare again, I can wake you up before it gets to that stage again, ok?" John reassured.

Sherlock couldn't deny that having the soldier beside him would help him relax enough to sleep. Begrudgingly, Sherlock swung his legs back into bed and pulled the warm duvet over his shivering body. He kept wrapped in the sheet, though loosened it slightly so he didn't become too warm.

"Let's just hope Mrs Hudson doesn't walk in." Sherlock said gravely.

John and Sherlock looked at each other for the first time since they climbed into bed together; neither could supress the fit of giggles that erupted between them. After that, the awkwardness was broken, and both men relaxed into comfortable positions. John kept himself awake until he could hear Sherlock's breathing even out.

Seeing Sherlock asleep did nothing to abide John's growing feelings for the detective. If possible, he looked even younger. He was angled towards John, his hands curled under his chin with his elbows hugged into his chest. How the detective was comfortable, John would never know. His black curls were slightly knotted, making them point in random directions, but if anything this made him look more adorable. It was nice to see a version of Sherlock that wasn't completely put together, because in this moment, he looked completely human.

Knowing that Sherlock was peacefully asleep, John let himself fall into a light doze, hyperaware of Sherlock sleeping beside him in case he needed to protect him from his nightmares.

* * *

 _Constructive criticism and advice is much appreciated. I will update every Wednesday._


	2. Even Sherlock Gets Jealous

**Thank you for the great response from the first chapter, I will upload twice a week! Also, the rating will probably go up to M in the next few chapters so check the warnings at the beginning of each chapter!**

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Over the next few months, every time either man had a nightmare, they would wake up together in the same bed the next morning. It didn't happen a lot, but whenever John woke to Sherlock screaming, there was no hesitation in John's walk to the younger man's room. The doctor would talk or hum until he woke, and after an understanding look, both with fall into a relaxed sleep. Sherlock no longer flinched away from John's touch whilst caught in a nightmare, but instead leaned into the touch and woke up quicker. Some nights, John woke up to his own nightmares to find Sherlock curled up in his bed beside him.

It was never uncomfortable when they both woke up, not even on the first night. But the situation was never spoken of. John was yet to learn what the detective is constantly troubled by in the night. All he had to go on was screams and pleads of "please" or "don't". However, Sherlock never pries into John's dreams, so the soldier grants the same respect and doesn't expect explanations from the younger man either.

"You're thinking too loud." Sherlock groaned. He was currently lying down on the sofa, filing information into his mind palace, just as he always does post-case.

"You should be glad an idiot like myself is thinking at all." John joked, completely past being disgruntled by Sherlock calling him stupid.

John see's Sherlock think for a second. "Good point, Watson." The detective nods.

John carried on with his Guardian crossword. _1 Across: A kitty making love in an apartment on a waterbed? (6)._ What in the actual hell, thought John. He was getting tired of the Guardian's stupid clues.

"Afloat." Came a voice very close to John's ear.

John jumped slightly at how close Sherlock was to him. "Bloody hell, Sherlock. Warning next time?"

Sherlock moved to his chair and sat on top of the backrest, his feet residing where a normal person would sit. He steepled his fingers under his chin and looked to be deep in thought.

"You have a date tonight?" Sherlock questioned.

"How-?" John exclaimed looking up at Sherlock. "Never mind, you know everything."

Sherlock didn't reply, instead looking intensely at the doctor through his eyelashes.

"I better get ready actually. Here, you finish the crossword, I'm terrible at the cryptic ones." John said whilst getting up from his chair, putting the newspaper on the arm of Sherlock's chair.

"John?" Sherlock finally spoke, making John stop and turn around just before he reached the doorway.

"What?" John asked, moving back to the chair and sitting down. It wouldn't take him too long to get ready anyway.

"How long are we going to ignore the attraction between us?" Sherlock said steadily. His tone was the same level that you would use when asking about the weather.

John didn't reply, but instead felt his mouth drop slightly as he stared at the detective. He wasn't expecting _that._

"Your eyes dilate when you look at me, especially when you check to see if I'm naked in bed before climbing in with me. Your pulse spikes when your hand brushes against mine. And whilst you cannot deduce, I am surprised you haven't seen the very same physiological reactions happen to me, too." Sherlock said, again speaking as if he was reading a shopping list.

"I-, I- um-" John stuttered. He felt like the wind had been taken out of him. He _really_ hadn't expected this.

Sherlock waited for John to form words. Sherlock was 87% sure he was right in his deductions that John had feelings for him, but now he had actually spoken his observations aloud, he began to doubt himself. He was, after all, inexperienced in matters of the heart.

"You said you were married to your work?" John questioned, slightly breathless. He couldn't believe this was happening. Hope soared in John's chest. _Please God, don't let this be one of Sherlock's 'experiments'._

"And I was." Sherlock shrugged.

"You-? You have _romantic_ feelings for me?" John asked, making sure he was completely sure about what Sherlock was saying.

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock drawled.

"Obviously?" John exclaimed. Both men continued to stare at each other. John did not know what to say, and Sherlock was slipping into a silent panic that he had completely misjudged the situation.

The detective slid down from the backrest to the seat of the chair, crossing his legs in front of himself for comfort.

"I must have misread the situation. Don't let me keep you, John. Mary is waiting." Sherlock said, breaking the silence and moving his gaze to anywhere but the soldier.

John moved to kneel in front of the detective, placing his arm slowly the other man's knees slowly as not to startle him.

"You didn't. Misread that is. You're right. Always right, Sherlock." John said softly, struggling to form a complete sentence.

Sherlock let his eyes meet John's again. Thousands of unspoken questions ran between them. Only seconds must have gone by, but the tension between them grew to the point you could almost cut it with a knife.

"May I-?" Started John.

"Don't be boring, John." Sherlock replied, his voice low and possessive.

At that, both men surged towards each other. John slid his knees up to the seat of Sherlock's chair and cupped his hands around the other man's chin. Similarly, Sherlock uncrossed his legs and placed them either side of the doctor's, letting his hands find a home on John's waist. Finally level, their lips met.

It started soft and gentle, both telling each other without words how long they had wanted this, and more importantly, how much they cared for the other. However, Sherlock soon shocked John by taking lead. Becoming impatient with the slow pace, Sherlock tightly held the doctor's waist pressing his lips passionately into the doctors. Taking advantage of the older man taking a breath, Sherlock ran his tongue along the parted lips, moaning slightly when the doctor responded by meeting his tongue with his own. As Sherlock's tongue reached the edge of John's lip, the soldier fought for dominance. John pulled his body up to its full height, and snaked his hands around the younger's mans face and tangled his fingers into the soft curls. Pulling the hair slightly, John forcefully pressed his lips back against Sherlock's, moaning in return when Sherlock responded fervently. John's mind was clouded, but not enough to realise he hadn't felt the other man pull away to breathe yet. Slowing down the pace, John pulled the younger man in for one last slow and tantalising kiss. Pulling away, John looked deep into Sherlock's eyes, trying to convey just how much he meant to him.

Sherlock took in an extremely welcome deep breath, keeping his eye's fixed on John's. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the fierceness of the soldier's gaze. He blushed slightly; he had never been looked at so intensely.

"Bloody good job Mrs Hudson didn't walk in." Said John, breaking the silence. Both men laughed at the running joke, slipping back into their easy-going rapport. John didn't move from his position, and instead slipped his hands down from Sherlock's hair and knotted their hands together on the detectives lap. John may not be able to deduce people like Sherlock, but he knew after such a big declaration to the older man, the detective would need reassuring he felt the same.

"Why did that take so long?" Sherlock questioned.

"I can't read people like you, Sherlock. Why did it take _you_ so long?"

" I couldn't be sure. You are much more experienced in matters of the heart. I thought for sure that you would have noticed my feelings, and given me hints to whether you felt the same. Because you didn't, I kept second-guessing myself. But when I deduced you were seeing someone else, this feeling in my stomach told me I had to know either way." Sherlock confessed.

John couldn't stop looking at Sherlock in awe. It has finally hit him that this brilliant, gorgeous man returned his feelings.

"You're amazing." John breathed.

"I'll never get used to that." Sherlock laugh self deprecatingly. Looking back into John's eyes, he asked, "So… What are w-"

Sherlock was cut off by John's mobile ringing.

"Ignore it." John said, looking for his phone to turn it off. Instead of seeing Mary's caller ID like he expected, it was Lestrade's. There were over ten messages and now a missed call in the last fifteen minutes. The last one read:

 _Please John, Sherlock's phone is off. The third kid has just gone missing, every second counts in cases like this. Ring me. – GL_

"Another girl has gone missing. They're finally calling you on." John said, knowing the spell between them was going to have to be over.

"Well, we best be going." Sherlock replied, not moving.

Neither of them wanted to leave the moment, although they both knew they really did have to go. Greg was right, every second counts in child abductions. Resolve settled in both men's eyes, and John slipped off the edge of the chair, pulling Sherlock up with him.

"Well come on genius. The quicker you solve it, the quicker we can get back to this." John winked. The soldier earned another blush on the pale detectives high cheekbones.

* * *

 _ **Please let me know if you're enjoying this story. I don't have a beta so any pointers are most welcome!**_


	3. Another Side Of The Detective

**_We're starting to get into the darker themes of the story now. Please let me know what you're thinking!_**

 ** _Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, kidnapping and rape._**

* * *

The case was a difficult one. Girls of the age of fourteen went missing in the middle of the day. Four days later they were found, dressed impeccably, looking like they were sleeping. However, when you removed the dresses, each girl had bruises, burns and evidence of multiple sexual assaults. It was enough to make even the strongest of men queasy. Even Sherlock looked affected, John noticed.

It had been three days ago since the kiss, and the call from Lestrade. Sherlock had yet to sleep, but he would soon as they were standing in the hospital. The consulting detective was getting hugged and thanked by the parents of the little girl he had found. Sherlock had managed to find the rapist and murderer, when no police officer had an inkling of where to start. Everyone was singing his praises. Sherlock, however, was kicking himself for not finding the poor child quicker, but only John could read that in his show of indifference.

"We've tried to speak to her, but she's not talking. We regret to inform you that there is evidence of sexual assault. We have called a psychiatrist and she is going to need a lot of support from now. The main thing you need to do is get her to talk to someone." The doctor said in a compassionate tone to the parents and Lestrade.

"I can try talk to her?" Asked Lestrade. After having their worst nightmares confirmed, they were in no fit state to talk to anyone.

The women reached out for Sherlock's hands. She was shaking, but the look she gave the detective was strong. "C-can you talk to h-her?" She cried. Pleading Sherlock to help her.

Sherlock looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I-. I-".

"I don't think Sherlock is the best person." Lestrade tried to joke, saving Sherlock from the pleading.

"No, it's ok Lestrade. I'll speak to her." Sherlock said determinedly. With a squeeze of the mother's hand, and a nod towards John and Lestrade, Sherlock walked into the private hospital room alone.

"You're going to let the freak speak to a victim?" Donavan screeched towards Lestrade. "Are you out of your mind?"

"It is the parent's wishes. Please lower your voice, or go back to the yard, Donavan. You are causing a commotion." Lestrade said through his teeth. He had to admit, he wasn't very happy with the idea himself, but he couldn't deny the parents anything they wished after everything.

John stood back, astonished that Sherlock had agreed to talk to the child. The detective hated children, and he definitely wasn't the most gentle with his approach. John just prayed to god the younger man proceeded carefully with the victim.

* * *

The girl on the bed was awake, and sat with her legs hugged to her chest. She looked curiously at the man who had entered. She recognised him as the man who had found her only hours ago. She may not know him, but he had saved her. She knew she could trust this man.

Sherlock sat down on the plastic chair, making sure he wasn't too close to the little girl so she wasn't crowded.

"Hi there. It's Lottie isn't it?" Sherlock began tentatively. He kept his voice low, but comforting. He was rewarded by a small nod off the little girl; however, she tightened the grip around her legs as if to protect herself.

"I hear you don't want to speak to anyone. And that's ok, I wouldn't want to right now either." Sherlock said honestly. Lottie widened her eyes in disbelief; shocked at the fact this man didn't want to grill her for information like everyone else.

"I'm Sherlock. I'm not a police officer, but I did help them find you." Answering the girl's unspoken questions. "You're very brave, Lottie. I know all the thoughts and the hurt running through your head right now are trying to tell you that you're an awful person, but you're definitely not. We know how brave you are, ok?" Sherlock comforted. If anyone were around to see the man converse how he was now to the little girl, they wouldn't believe it was the same man. They would question how the usually insensitive bastard knew exactly what to say to her.

"I-" Lottie started, shocking herself by speaking. "Everything hurts." She whispered, looking away from Sherlock and trying to hide the tears falling down her cheeks. It was obvious she was not only talking about the physical wounds.

"I know. But it won't be like this forever, Lottie. It's going to take some time, and some days it will feel like nothing has changed, but you'll stop hurting. I promise." Sherlock soothed. He pulled a few tissues from the box by her bed, folded them and then placed them beside her, taking care not to touch her even slightly.

"I'm so scared. I know I have to tell people about it, but I feel like if I can keep it inside it didn't happen. Is that stupid?" She confessed, still speaking in no more than a whisper.

"Most definitely not stupid. I know it feels that way though, Lottie. But do you know what?" He asked, waiting for her to look up at him again. "Keeping it in will make it hurt worse." He said knowingly.

The little girl trusted the man completely. "If I tell the policeman, will he disappear forever?"

"I'll make sure of it, Lottie." He promised.

"Then I think I'm ready." She said with more strength, trying to give Sherlock a smile. Picking up the folded tissues, the young girl wiped her face as Sherlock stood up and went to the door.

"Lottie is ready for you Lestrade." He said, his voice betraying none of the emotion he felt.

Lestrade, John, and especially Donavan all looked at Sherlock like he had just grown three heads.

"How?" Lestrade asked, perplexed. Donavan did not look like she could even form words. And John looked, Sherlock couldn't believe it but he looked, proud?

Sherlock just shrugged, letting Lestrade into the room to take the girls statement. He was about to leave when the little girl called after him.

"Sherlock? Will you stay and hold my hand?" She asked. The look on Donavan's face was priceless.

Looking at only Lottie, Sherlock nodded and sat back down on the plastic chair and placed his hand upright on the bed. Lottie reached over tentatively, finally allowing herself to put her smaller hand in his.

"I'm ready." She said to Sherlock.

* * *

"How did you do that?" John finally asked.

They had just got back to the flat, it was almost dawn, but neither man cared. John had made them both a cup of tea before relaxing into his chair. It had been a long four days, and they finally had some time alone. The soldier was the only one not to question the detective relentlessly. The whole of Scotland Yard were beside themselves; the sociopath had managed to get a young girl to open up and give a full statement, a statement that was sure to ensure the kidnappers imprisonment. Whilst John was shocked, he was the only one who had seen anything close the compassion he must have shown to the victim. But he was still shocked. Very shocked.

"I just said what she needed to hear. Lottie decided to talk herself. She's a strong girl." Sherlock said, passing off any responsibility and settling down in his own chair opposite the doctor.

"You're amazing. You know that right?" John insisted. This was unlike many of his previous compliments. There was a fire behind John's eyes the detective had never seen. They had stolen glances throughout the case, and it finally dawned on the two men they were finally alone.

"What is this?" Sherlock asked, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

John knew straight away what the younger man was talking about. In that moment it felt like the last four days had not happened, and they were back in the moment of their first kiss.

"I do not want us to lose what we have already, but I would like us to explore the… romantic side of our relationship. But only if that's still what you want too?" John said steadily. He knew he would have to take the lead of this, Sherlock seemed woefully inexperienced in the area, so it was up to John to be truthful and lay his feelings down on the table.

Sherlock looked slightly shocked by his admission, and John felt a sick feeling gather in his stomach, worried that the detective did not want the same.

"I would like that too." Sherlock said softly.

"Well I guess that means we're still partners then." John said, not hiding the relief in his voice. Not that he could ever hide anything from Sherlock anyway.

"I just need you to know something, John, I am not good at things like this. I have spent years suppressing my emotions, and I need you to know this isn't going to be an easy ride. I am an 'insufferable git', as you once said. I'm going to run off, barely eat, and completely misjudge all social niceties that one should abide to in relationships." Sherlock confessed.

"Sherlock, you already drive me up the wall on a daily basis, and I'm still here, and I still like you for it." John smiled, diffusing the tension that had built up in the room.

Both men sat in a comfortable silence after that. Sherlock retreated to his mind palace, just as he always did post-case, and John lazily read the local newspaper. Somehow it wasn't odd, even though they had deep discussions about their relationship not seconds before.

They finally retired to their bed's early afternoon. When John woke over sixteen hours later the next morning, he found Sherlock curled up beside him, even though neither man had been plagued by nightmares that night.

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 _Let me know what you think!_


	4. Maybe Sally Has Some Uses

_**As I warned, the rating has been bumped up for sexual content. Not too explicit and very fluffy. Enjoy!**_

* * *

The next week, Sherlock and John stumbled through the beginnings of their relationship. They didn't act much differently, but instead of spending evenings on their individual chairs, they would sit on the sofa. There was constantly some form of physical contact between the two men, either in the form of legs or hands tangled together, or sometimes Sherlock would even lay down on the sofa with his head resting in John's lap. Of course there were also moments of soft, lingering kisses, and more excitingly: hungry, passionate ones. Sherlock always pulled away before the kisses got more heated, and John never questioned or complained. Being honest with himself, he needed the time to adjust to being with a man. If anyone were to find his deleted search history, they were sure to blush, but John was determined to know how to be with a man properly. He didn't know if Sherlock knew everything there was to know about gay sex, or if he knew anything about sex at all, and he certainly didn't want both of them to be clueless if it came to that.

"What do you think, John?" Sherlock asked, stepping up from body and looking to John.

Sherlock was answered with a blush. The soldier certainly shouldn't be thinking about his Internet history _here_ of all places. The detective cocked his head and gave the doctor a curious look, and John knew he was trying to deduce what made his partner redden, which, if possible, only made him blush more.

He knelt down near the body, hiding his face from Sherlock's prying gaze. "Strangulation. Pretty recent, I'd say only around three hours. Took off guard, you can see there was a struggle by the skin and blood underneath her fingernails. You should check for DNA."

"Brilliant, John." Sherlock complimented, causing John to blush yet again.

Lestrade looked bemusedly between the two men as they left the crime scene. Something had definitely changed within their usual dynamic, but he was the last person to comment on their relationship. Donavan, however, did not seem to have the same respect.

"I can't believe it. John has finally bedded the freak." Donavan exclaimed, looking at Sherlock gleefully.

"Please kindly refrain from commenting on things you have no business sticking your abnormally large nose into, Donavan." Sherlock said levelly, not letting the malicious woman get to him.

"Aw, maybe I was wrong. Bet the virgin isn't letting you touch him, is he?" She persisted, now turning to John, trying to elicit a reaction. Only John saw Sherlock's slight flinch at Sally's words.

John let out a long sigh, thinking about what to reply to the annoying woman, but Sherlock got in there first.

"Not all of us drop our knickers at a whim, even when the other person is _married."_ The detective snapped back, causing Sally to close her mouth.

"Now, now, guys. Can we please uphold professionalism at crime scenes?" Lestrade said, tiredly.

Sherlock did not show any signs that he was listening to Lestrade, and instead stormed ahead, barely letting John catch up.

"Sherlock, wait." John shouted, jogging to catch up with the taller man's long strides. "Are you ok?"

"Of course. Now come on, I think I've got a lead." He said abruptly, moving to the edge of the road and hailing a cab, making it clear any conversation on the subject was closed.

* * *

John woke up to a scream beside him, just in time to move out of the way of a fist coming towards his face.

"Sherlock." John said sleepily, shaking the younger man's shoulder beside him. "Sherlock, wake up. It's just a nightmare, love."

It took a little longer than usual to wake the detective, but finally Sherlock's gasps for air were evening out into steady breaths. After a few minutes, the younger man shocked John. Sherlock usually liked to keep his distance after nightmares. He would curl up, facing John, but only allowing their hands to tangle together. This time, however, Sherlock curled his head under the doctor's chin, pressing his chilled body into the heat of John's. Cautiously, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, enclosing the detective in a protective hold.

"Are you frustrated at the… pace we're taking our relationship, John?" Sherlock questioned, breaking the comfortable silence. The doctor had never heard the other man sound so unsure of himself, yet the emotion was masked by a cool and disinterested facade.

"Ignore Donavan. I am happy to go at whatever pace you are happy with, Sherlock. I promise you. And I'm not saying that to make you feel better. I will never pressure you for anything until you are ready. Until we're both ready." John stated into the other man's curls, trying to convey his honesty.

"But you must have… urges." Sherlock said, quietly. Whilst John could not see his face, he was sure Sherlock was blushing.

"Of course I do. You are the most beautiful, most intelligent and most infuriating man I have ever met. But my _urges_ take a backseat until you're ready." John insisted, pulling the detective into a tighter hold.

Sherlock pulled back from the embrace slightly, looking deeply into the doctor's eyes. Seeing only genuineness and warmth, Sherlock pulled the older man in for a compassionate kiss.

John tangled his fingers into Sherlock's hair, letting the younger man take the lead in the kiss. This was the first time they had kissed like this whilst in bed, and the closeness had not escaped John. Sherlock continued to expertly drive John crazy with his mixture of tantalising and bruising kisses, and the older man felt all the blood in his body begin to move towards his groin. Sherlock scraped his teeth across the soldier's lips, eliciting a deep moan from the older man. Encouraged by the noises coming from his partner, Sherlock moved his lips down to his neck, placing tormenting kisses across the available skin, deducing where John enjoyed it the most and spending more time exploring those certain areas.

Sherlock was the most attentive lover John had ever been with. He could read exactly which spots gave his partner the most pleasure, and knew exactly how to tease him with such information. And John was definitely enjoying the younger man's devout attention, maybe a little too much.

Not wanting to scare Sherlock away, especially after the conversation they had just had, John tried to slow the pace of the kiss. However, Sherlock had other ideas, surging his body closer to John's.

"Sherlock." John started, breathlessly. "How far… do you want… this to… go?" He groaned between kisses.

Sherlock stopped for a second to look at John, and the soldier could see the uncertainness begin to cloud his eyes. The detective definitely did not want to stop what they were doing; each lustful noise coming from John had created a deep, extremely enjoyable heat in his stomach. He desperately wanted to push his lower body against the soldiers to try and dispel some of the tension gathering there. To indicate what he wanted, the younger man pushed his groin against the soldier's, gasping both at the pleasure that sparked through his body, but also shocked to find his partner was just as aroused as himself.

At that, John understood exactly what the detective wanted, and his excitement grew, if possible, even more.

"You're in control, ok? If you want to stop at anytime, just say so." The soldier said firmly.

Sherlock answered by recapturing his partner's lips, thrusting his groin back into John's. This time, the older man reciprocated, acquiring a low moan from the detective. At that moment, John made it his life ambition to make his partner make that noise as much as possible.

Finally creating a steady rhythm, Sherlock snaked his hands under his partner's pyjama bottoms, and dug his short nails into the other man's backside. He then pushed the other man's body harder against to his own, once again capturing the soldier's bottom lip between his teeth. In return, John pushed up the detectives loose t-shirt and caressed the exposed skin, kissing his partner back fervently.

It didn't take long for both men to become extremely close to release. Becoming impatient, Sherlock pushed both of the doctor's shoulders against the bed, hooked his leg around his waist, and swung around to straddle his partner. John gasped at added pressure, and was extremely turned on by how Sherlock was taking lead. The confidence Sherlock displayed shocked the doctor, but he couldn't deny he was extremely enjoying being dominated by the tall, muscular detective. Now that Sherlock was completely in control, John stopped holding back with his thrusts. Both men opened their eyes, looking deeply into each other's eyes as they got closer and closer. With the new angle, it only took a few more thrusts until both men were throwing back their heads in pleasure, eyes blown wide, groaning each other's names as they released. They stayed in the same position until both men had sufficiently ridden through their orgasm, never tearing their eyes from one another.

"That was... " John started, trying to form words to convey how amazing he felt.

"It was." Sherlock replied, reading exactly how John was feeling.

After finally moving to clean up, they climbed back into bed eagerly. This time, as they settled down to fall asleep, Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder and placed his arm tightly around his partner's waist. In return, John kissed the younger man's soft curls and also placed his arm around the other man's waist.

"Goodnight, love." John whispered.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied, slipping into a peaceful sleep, a small tear falling silently onto John's chest.

* * *

 ** _Please, please, please let me know how you're finding the story. As my first Sherlock fanfiction, feedback is so so appreciated!_**

 ** _The next chapter is a big one, and it will finally get to Sherlock's past. Let me know what you think happened to him._**

 ** _Thank you so much to kayhimura, KekuleSalvador, ChuYumeAkirameru, DreamaLirit, ValkyrieDefender, Malya, Milly, SherlockMad, and all the guests for your feedback so far, it really means so much :)_**


	5. It's Okay to be Vulnerable, Sherlock

**_Warnings for mentions of past rape (underaged) and domestic violence (physical and mental). Not explicit don't worry!_**

 ** _Just to explain the tear at the end of the last chapter: it was out of relief and happiness more than anything! Sherlock did not regret the experience or feel pressured in any way by John, he just felt a lot of emotion after the experience, and the only way I believe Sherlock would have acknowledged his emotions was by not being able to hold back a small tear :)_**

* * *

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked, looking down at the photo in his hands.

"Irene Adler. Professionally known as, The Woman." Mycroft replied.

"Professionally?" John asked.

"There are many names for what she does, she prefers, Dominatrix." Mycroft said almost dramatically.

"Dominatrix" Sherlock mused to himself, eyes still locked on the picture.

"Don't be alarmed, it's to do with sex." Mycroft mocked, looking to Sherlock knowingly.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock answered, almost too quickly.

Mycroft let out a mocking laugh. "How would you know?" He drawled.

John's eyes were trained on Sherlock's. He saw his partner draw back slightly, a spark of emotion bolting through his eyes. Before John could read what the emotion was, his usual mask of indifference pulled his features into check.

Mycroft swiftly moved the conversation on, but John's thoughts stayed on the raw emotion he had just seen his partner display. Something wasn't right.

* * *

Another long case finished, and they were relaxed in their usual place on the sofa. John was sat at the end, newspaper in hand, whilst Sherlock was sprawled out, head resting in the doctor's lap. John, thankfully, had managed to keep his jealousy in check throughout the entire case. The Woman seemed to have a hold on Sherlock that the doctor did not like one bit. But he trusted his partner. Sherlock had ensured John that whilst he was definitely fascinated by her intelligence and power; he did not have romantic feelings for her. Which was great, but Irene definitely had feelings for him, and she was definitely an extremely attractive woman. That, paired with the fact this was the only person other then himself that Sherlock had shown any interest in, slightly disgruntled the soldier.

"Your jealousy is adorable, John. But it's rather distracting." Sherlock pouted, keeping his eyes closed as if still in his mind palace.

"I can't help being jealous when a beautiful, intelligent woman takes up all of my partner's attention." John joked. He may be jealous, but Sherlock was here curled up in his lap, not running off with The Woman.

How many times had John studied Sherlock? Not enough, that was for sure. The soldier was still getting used to the fact that he was attracted to a man. However, it was easy to see why. Sherlock had many of the features he looked for in a woman: high cheekbones, long eyelashes that brushed his cheeks when he fluttered his eyes shut, soft, curly hair he could run his fingers through. Nevertheless, there were many features that were undeniably masculine, that John also appreciated. For example, Sherlock was surprisingly strong for such a lithe frame. John loved the detective's defined arm, shoulder and chest muscles that threatened to rip through his well-fitted shirts. He loved the trail of hair that started at the younger man's belly button, disappearing under his trousers to a place he hadn't had the privilege of exploring yet. He desperately wanted to run his fingers down the trail of hair, letting it lead his hand down into Sherlock's pants.

John did not linger too much on what being with Sherlock meant for his sexuality. He still considered himself straight. Sherlock was the only man he had ever had romantic feelings for. Maybe he was that sexuality where you are more concerned with who you fall in love with rather than their gender? That sounded about right to him.

Sherlock let out a disgruntled sigh, bringing John out of his wandering thoughts. "You're much more my type." He said, finally opening his eyes and looking up to the soldier.

"Good." John smiled, looking down at the gorgeous man in his lap. In that moment, John realised he didn't know anything about Sherlock's relationship history, his sexuality, anything. Sherlock was an enigma; he did not used to be able to imagine Sherlock in a relationship, which was mostly the reason he never imagined anything happening between the two of them. That in mind, Sherlock had now shown John he was not adverse to relationships, and even though Sherlock was hesitant, he definitely seemed slightly experienced.

"What is your type, Sherlock?" John questioned.

Sherlock once again looked up at the doctor, this time bemusedly. "You."

"Yeah, but what about before me?" John pushed.

"Is this your way of asking about my sexuality, John?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Maybe." John smirked. He knew he wouldn't get away with obscure questions with Sherlock.

"I do not believe in the concept of giving yourself a label. It is much too restricting. Look at yourself for example. You're straight, yet you have feelings for me, a man. Sexuality is a human construct; we're driven by the need of putting ourselves into categories, and anyone straying from those norms are penalised. What you are asking is if I have had any previous relationships, and what gender they were." Sherlock almost lectured. He was definitely having fun at John's expense right now.

"You're intolerable sometimes. Just answer the damn question." John huffed, this was much more embarrassing and difficult than he had imagined.

Sherlock chuckled again. "I have only been with a man."

"So you have had a relationship in the past?" John asked.

"I wouldn't call it that. There was one person back in my university days, but it was short lived. From then I haven't met anyone who I deemed worthy enough to distract me from my work and experiments." Sherlock said steadily, though his body tensed slightly in John's lap.

John did not know how to phrase or even bring up his next question. There had been many throwaway comments made about his partner being a virgin, mostly by Donovan taunting him. However, Mycroft's recent mocking was much more interesting. They both had the ability to deduce other people; so was it true? It did not bother John either way; it would just be good to know for the sake of how their relationship progressed. Whilst their situation was not normal, being that they were already living together, the sexual side of their relationship had not progressed to the speed of the usual adult relationship. Therefore, John's gut told him that if Sherlock had any previous experiences of sex, it wasn't extensive. John noticed how his partner was uncomfortable when the subject was breached, even now speaking about it with only John, Sherlock was anxious. Factoring in Mycroft's recent teasing, John had come to the conclusion Sherlock must be a virgin. He just had to let his partner know that was fine, and he definitely didn't have to be embarrassed around John about that.

"It's ok, Sherlock, you know. It's perfectly ok if you are a virgin. You don't have to be embarrassed." John said carefully.

Sherlock stayed extremely still in John's lap. "I know it's ok, John"

"Sorry, I must have got the wrong idea. It's just you cringe every time someone says it to you." John blushed. He felt like he was just digging himself deeper and deeper into a large hole, and Sherlock was not making any move to help him out of it.

Sherlock took a deep breath. Whilst he was trying his best to hide it, John could see the detective was bothered by the conversation.

"Well anyway, either way, I hope you will become comfortable speaking about it with me." John said with finality, hoping to show Sherlock he did not have to continue the conversation when he was so agitated about it.

"I'm not, John." Sherlock finally spoke.

"Not comfortable?" John worried. The green eyes flashed from frighteningly full of emotion, back to completely blank within seconds. John could recognise Sherlock's perfected mask, hiding all emotions from the world. For the hundredth time, John wished he had the ability to read people like Sherlock could. It would make life a hell of a lot easier most of the time.

"I'm not a virgin." Sherlock said, closing his eyes, denying John from seeing any emotions that threatened to push past his pretence.

"Right. That's ok too, then." The doctor appeased. He was growing more and more confused. Sherlock was definitely affected by something, and John had mistaken that as embarrassment. If he wasn't a virgin, what else could the detective troubled by?

Sherlock still had his head rested in John lap, eyes fixed closed, looking peaceful, yet the soldier knew he wanted to be anywhere but here. John threaded his fingers through his partner's hair, massaging his head softy to try diffuse some of the tension Sherlock was feeling.

"So is that why you're bothered? Because people just assume you are?" John asked. He didn't want to carry on the conversation, but something told him he should. John wanted to be able to comfort his partner, and that is a hard thing to do for someone if you do not know what exactly you are comforting them for. The soldier had never seen his partner so affected by _anything_. It left an unsettling feeling in John's stomach.

"This is a long story, John. One I'm sure you really don't want to know." Sherlock sighed, only making John worry more.

"Sherlock, I am always here to listen. If you don't want to talk about it, that is honestly ok, I understand and I will never push you. But anything you say isn't going to make me care for you less. I just want to be able to understand and help." John pleaded.

John kept playing with the detective's dark curls, hoping it would help calm him. There was a long silence, and John could see that his partner was in deep thought. His eyes were still closed, though they were now scrunched together tightly, as if with pain. Also, his hands had started to wring together anxiously. The rest of his body was trying to portray an air of calm, but Sherlock was anything but. It almost killed John to see the detective so restless.

"It's ok Sherlock, we don't have to talk about it anymore." John said, no longer able to watch his partner in distress.

At that, Sherlock opened his eyes and looked deeply at John. He tried to convey that his hesitance was not because he did not trust his partner, but because he didn't want to bring it all back up. Sherlock had worked hard to lock away all these feelings in his mind palace. Unfortunately, memories, even for the genius, did not work that way. Sherlock hated being vulnerable. It had been drilled into him from a young age; _caring is not an advantage_. In case he forgot, his brother and parents were always around to remind him. There was a reason Sherlock strove for indifference. Emotions, sentiment, caring; they were all weaknesses of the losing side. Nothing good had come of sentiment for Sherlock. It was the reason he had turned to drugs, why he found it hard to trust, why until now he had never let anyone in.

But John was different. John cared for Sherlock, and he definitely wasn't a disadvantage. If anything, John brought out the best in Sherlock, in all aspects of life. Even on cases, with his doctor around, Sherlock worked increasingly more efficiently. And that was why he was able to let him in. Sherlock _trusted_ John.

If Sherlock were to be honest with himself, this was a story in his past that John would have to know for the sake of their relationship. He had already trusted the soldier with his nightmares, with his emotions, and now he had to bring down all his walls and trust his partner completely.

"I am not bothered by the fact people think I'm a virgin. I am bothered by the fact that I am not one." Sherlock said with resolve, finally opening his eyes. John could see the detective was ready to talk. Seeing the absolute trust in his partner's eyes caused John's heart to pull with emotion. However, he couldn't disguise the lost expression on his face. Sherlock wasn't making any sense whatsoever.

"I-it was never consensual, John." Sherlock said in no more than a whisper, his eyes fluttering closed again.

Feeling his fingers clench into fists, John moved his hand out of Sherlock's hair to ensure he didn't hurt him. The soldier was finding it hard to breathe. Anger boiled in his blood for the man who had done this to his partner, but also, anger at himself. It should have been obvious to the doctor. The nightmares with pleas of 'don't', his averseness to touch, his ability to know exactly what to say to a victim of rape. It broke John's heart that he couldn't even say the word. John tried to calm himself down. Now was not the time to let his emotions get out of check; he should be comforting his partner right now.

Opening his eyes, John saw Sherlock had been closely watching his reaction.

"What…? When…? Who…?" John tried to form words. He had so many questions, but he didn't want to push Sherlock just as he had begun to open up about it.

He brought his hand back down to thread through Sherlock's hair. The familiar motion calmed the doctor, as well as hopefully calming his partner. Sherlock leaned into his partner's hand, steeling himself to recount the past.

"I was fifteen, and I had just started university. I was intellectually ready to go earlier, but my parents had held me back a few years in hope I would be able to fit in better with a smaller age gap.

"I was an intolerable student." Sherlock mused, granting a smile off John. "All the professors were either idiots, or I had already learnt everything about he topic they were lecturing. I rarely went to classes, and instead hung out in the laboratories all day.

"Vic-" Sherlock stumbled. John did not interrupt, but instead kept playing with the detective's hair. His other had moved to Sherlock's arm, lightly tracing patterns.

"Victor was a PhD student at the time. He let me use his lab throughout the week, as he had to be in everyday nine to seven. Back then, he was the only person I was able to call a friend. He was smart, gave me ideas for new experiments, and after a few months we started spending time together after class.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do have human reactions. I was young and impressionable. He was older, popular and physically attractive. It also didn't help that I was an outcast; I craved the attention he gave me. He saw straight away that I had a crush on him, and he seemed to love the attention I gave him. When we were alone, we started to have a relationship. But I was never to speak to him in public.

"One morning, I had been up all night finishing an experiment, one he had suggested I do. I got amazing results, so I ran though the halls to find him and show him them. He was sat at the computers with his friends, and when I ran up to him and started talking about the experiment, he gave me this extremely cold look that made me stop in my tracks. I apologised and said I mistook him for someone else. All of his friends laughed, but Victor was still giving me this dark, scary look.

"Later that day I went back to the lab to apologise. He was acting really weird, and then he lashed out at me, throwing a glass cylinder in my direction. It hit the table in front of me, causing shards of glass to come flying at me." Sherlock's voice wavered, but his resolve to tell John the story held strong.

John on the other hand wasn't fairing as well. He was working hard to portray an air of calm for Sherlock, but inside he was ready to hunt down and murder this _Victor_.

"As soon as he saw I was hurt, he ran over to me, saying how sorry he was, how he hadn't meant to hurt me.

"That was the first time he told me he loved me." Sherlock sighed, pausing in his story to let the memories of the encounter he had worked hard to suppress, drift in front of his eyes.

"Looking back I can see how stupid I was. Seeing his temper, I should have left then. But he was the only person that would put up with me. And he was always so nice to me every other time. For such an intelligent young man, I was cripplingly stupid when it came to Victor.

"This carried on for a few more months. It started to get to the point where I didn't have to do anything _wrong_ to receive physical violence from him. But he was all that I had. I craved for the times where he told me he loved me, where I felt like someone cared for me."

John held Sherlock tighter. He could feel the worst was about to come. He was devastated his partner had to go through this. He was only fifteen. _Fifteen_. If this monster was doing a PhD, he must have been at least twenty-three, probably more. John felt physically sick.

"But finally, I told myself enough was enough. Another PhD student who didn't like Victor said I could work in her lab. She was nice to me, and I realised I didn't need him. I was meant to be spending the night at his, so I went over like normal, intending to break it off. But…" Sherlock took a deep breath, looking at John for strength.

His partner almost looked unaffected in his arms. However, John knew Sherlock, and the effort to hold his mask of calm and triviality was beginning to break. There was more emotion in his detective's eyes than he had ever seen him display.

"I'm here, you can tell me." John comforted. Sherlock had never told his story. He needed to share the burden, so John's feelings took a backseat to his partner's right now.

"Victor wasn't happy I was trying to end things. He said I could only leave when he said so, that he hadn't put up with me this whole time to get nothing out of it. I started to feel really uncomfortable to where this was going, so I turned around to leave. But he was much older and a lot stronger; I didn't really have a cha-nce." Sherlock's voice broke, and he took a few seconds to steady his breathing.

"He was indistinguishable from the Victor Trevor I knew. I never thought he would be capable of this. Somewhere along the line I had let my feelings for him blur my deductions. He had a hold over me until the end of the academic year. Once I spent time away from him, I promised myself to never let sentiment distract me so much that I left myself completely open and vulnerable. I blamed myself." Sherlock admitted. A single tear fell from the detective's eye, all he would allow himself to show. He felt embarrassed that now, as an adult, something that happened so long ago still affected him so strongly. He was even more embarrassed by the fact he was letting someone see him so _human_.

"Don't you dare do that, Sherlock. Don't blame yourself. You may be a genius, but you're not bloody perfect. He took advantage of you in every possible way, and you were too young to know any better. And don't you dare feel embarrassed to still be affected by it. It seems to me you worked so hard on locking it away, you never let yourself feel and get past it." John said, feeling his heart expand. He would not let his partner blame himself for this.

Sherlock buried his face into his partner's warm, fluffy jumper; hiding the tears forming there that he was unable to hold back. He hated weakness, but he could not deny he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder now he had told John. He took in a deep breath, breathing in John's musky cologne. He played with the bottom of the beige jumper, focusing on John's hands making relaxing patterns on his arm and threading through his hair. He had never felt so close to a person in his life.

"I'm guessing this is what the nightmares are about?" John questioned, softy. Sherlock nodded in response.

They remained in the same position, John letting the story sink in, Sherlock trying to dispel his interfering emotions.

"Wait. Does Mycroft know?" John demanded, suddenly extremely angry. How could his brother tease him about something like this?

"Of course not, John. We may dislike each other at times, but he would never tease someone about such matters." He whispered into John's jumper.

"Hasn't he, you know, deduced it though?" John asked, trying to understand how the all-knowing Holmes brother didn't know this.

"Things can be hidden. And obviously I haven't _had_ sex. The usual signs aren't there like you would expect of a sexually active person. And then of course, he takes my avoidance of the subject as embarrassment." Sherlock explained.

"I'm glad and honoured you confided in me, Sherlock." John said, truthfully, after a comfortable silence.

Sherlock's tears were falling more steadily now. He tried to stop the tears, but his attempts to hold them in only resulted in his body shaking dangerously. He tried to figure out why he was crying. Yes, he had just recounted an awful experience, but he only felt relieved for finally letting it out. Was it possible to cry from relief? Feeling the aching in his head subside from the steady fingers massaging there, he felt more tears fall. Was it possible to cry because he was happy to have John?

"Stop holding back, Sherlock. I'm not going to think of you any differently if you let yourself cry." John soothed.

Finally letting go, Sherlock let himself be held by his partner.

* * *

 ** _I hope this chapter met your expectations of where the story was leading!_**

 ** _Just an explanation about how realistic Sherlock's experiences are: I cannot speak for all people who have experienced rape and child abuse, but it is possible and accurate for people to become to enjoy sex again after an attack. Also, it is hard for those who have been a victim to completely open up to their partner at the beginning of a relationship, and many have some sort of sexual experience before they do. In Sherlock's case, the abuse was 20 years ago, and he suppressed it for years, which is why I believe his reaction in this chapter to recounting his story, is realistic. However, I still believe he would have been fine with the sexual encounter in the last chapter. Firstly, he will have been thinking about John in that way long before they got together, and after spending many nights in bed with him he has gotten used to his partner's presence. Further, the sexual encounter was nothing like he experienced before, mainly in that it was manual sex rather than penetrative and it was someone he has a stronger romantic relationship with. I have based Sherlock off personal experiences, hearing about other people's experiences and Internet research. Please do let me know your thoughts about this; it would be great to know other people's thoughts/experiences._**

 _ **Stay tuned for John's complete reaction...**_


	6. Relief and Revenge

_**Sorry there was a little bit of a wait for this chapter! Please leave some feedback if you can... who knows, it may even make me update quicker ;)**_

* * *

John didn't know how long they had been sat there, but it was now dark outside and his detective was in a deep sleep in his lap. The soldier looked down at how carefree and peaceful his partner looked, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. John marvelled Sherlock's ability to suppress his memories and emotions for so long without telling anyone. The doctor wouldn't change the younger man for the world, but it was now easy to see why Sherlock acts the way he does. He cannot even begin to imagine how, in Sherlock's position, he would allow himself to trust someone again. Especially when the only person you had ever trusted, broke that trust, in every _horrific_ way possible.

John tried not to look at the detective differently after the admission. The last thing Sherlock needed was pity and hesitance after learning about something that happened nearly two decades ago. He had to remember that whatever happened back then didn't change the person he was today. Right now his partner may seem vulnerable and fragile, but he knows Sherlock is usually anything but. To change now and treat him like a victim would not be received well, and nor should it. However, it did mean an open and serious talk needed to happen before there were any further developments in their sex life. With his past, it was likely Sherlock could be reluctant or anxious about some steps in the progression of their relationship, and John understood this now. The worst thing John could imagine is accidentally triggering Sherlock, and even though he did not do it purposely, John would never forgive himself for putting Sherlock back into the moment of his attacks. The doctor needed to know anything that may even slightly trigger his partner, and then he can be aware of words, touches, actions, or even smells that he needed to avoid. Once Sherlock completely trusted John, they could then begin to explore each of them at the detectives pace, insuring everything they did together was nothing like his previous experience of a relationship.

Thinking back to the small snippets of information about what Victor had done to his partner when he was just a teenager made the doctor's anger, which he had fought to supress, begin to return. John's malicious side wanted to track down the lowlife and torture him until he begged for death. But John wasn't that person. Sure, he had killed people before, and even to save Sherlock. But that was the difference; in those moments he had killed to save someone. Killing Victor now would be for his own benefit, as he was no immanent threat to his partner anymore. It just seemed utterly wrong for Victor to escape punishment for the torture he had put Sherlock through as a teenager, and the torment he still held to this day. Even if he did want to track him down, that was extremely unlikely. Sherlock could _never_ know, and frankly, the thought of trying to find the right Victor Trevor without the detectives help was laughable. John was a doctor; he didn't possess the skills of locating suspects that Sherlock did. But just thinking about Sherlock at that age, innocent, inquisitive, amicable, how could anyone take advantage of him? Why did no one else notice? Where there no PhD supervisors in that damn university laboratory?

John tried not the think about what Sherlock may have been like without such an awful start to relationships, but he couldn't stop the images flooding his vision. Maybe he wouldn't have an obsession with becoming inhuman, to always be detached and indifferent. He ultimately imagined Sherlock just the way he was, but more carefree, smiling more, _happier_.

He would have probably had other relationships, meaning they may not have even met.

John carefully extracted himself from under his partner; having become so restless he worried he would wake the detective from his peaceful sleep. Sherlock definitely needed sleep right now. Once he had completely slid from underneath him, the younger man curled up into a ball on the small sofa, holding his legs tightly to his body. Fearing the movement was for warmth, John reached for the blanket that was folded and hung over the back of the sofa, and wrapped the detective into the warm, fluffy material. A soft groan of content came from under the cover. Satisfied his partner was still asleep, John moved his chair so it was angled towards Sherlock and let himself fall into the soft cushions.

Trying to calm down, the doctor ran his hand over his face, trying to diffuse some of the tension in his head. His whole body ached with the pressure from all the emotions, and his mind felt ready to explode with all the questions and anger, spinning around in his head.

He desperately wanted to call Lestrade and track down Victor together, arresting the bastard for what he did to his partner. But that would be betraying Sherlock's trust. If the detective were somehow ok with Lestrade knowing, there was still no way he would risk the chance of Donavan and Anderson finding out. But, John desperately needed justice of some form for his partner. He felt so helpless to the fact this man had shattered Sherlock, yet he was still free to walk the streets to do this to others. John felt a sharp pull in his stomach at the realisation, making him feel even more nauseous: what if he had done this to more innocent children? A plan formulated in the doctor's mind. If Trevor was a multiple offender, and he was still walking around free, John could catch him without dragging Sherlock into it.

There was only one man for the job.

John reached for his phone, dialling the number he rarely ever used. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The phone rang for only two rings before it was answered.

"Should ask why you're up at 2am, Doctor Watson?" Came a familiar drawl.

"Should I ask why you're awake to answer, Mycroft?" John retorted, feeling increasingly conflicted about what he was about to do. Sherlock was still sound asleep, so he kept his voice low.

"Touché. What can I do for you?" Mycroft replied in his usual taunting tone.

"Victor Trevor. What do you know about him?" John stated, careful not to let his voice betray the emotion that just his name aroused.

"The name sounds familiar." There was a short pause where John could hear a filing cupboard screech open, and then the rustling of files. John ignored for now that Mycroft seemingly has a filing cabinet filled with files on everyone who had passed through Sherlock's life. He couldn't imagine what his own would contain. "Victor Trevor, D.O.B. 21st September 1970, friend of Sherlock's at university. In fact, if I remember correctly, his only friend. Now works for Pfizer, largest pharmaceutical company in the world. What is your interest in him?"

John could do the maths, Victor was twenty-five when Sherlock was fifteen. The doctor looked over to his sleeping partner, looking completely peaceful and innocent. Victor was over _ten years_ older. John once again fought the urge to throw up.

"I can't tell you anything, but I think you should look into him. _Thoroughly_." John said, bitterly.

"Personal life?" Mycroft asked. John could hear the confusion and intrigue in his voice.

"Yes. But please, for Sherlock's sake, keep him out of it. And I want to be involved in how we act." John urged.

"As you wish. I will let you know when I get information. Good night, Doctor Watson."

With a click, the Holmes brother disappeared, and John was left to fret about what he had just done. Had he broke Sherlock's trust? Mycroft was sure to come to conclusions about what had happened to Sherlock when he started digging. Maybe he should have spoken to Sherlock about involving his brother first. Shit, he really should have spoken to his partner first. Going into a deep panic, John failed to realise that Sherlock had woken up, and was deducing him intently.

"It's ok. I understand." Sherlock spoke softly.

John's eyes shot to his partner's. "How much of that did you hear?" He asked.

"Enough." Sherlock replied, devoid of any emotion.

"I'm so sorry," was all that John could say, his voice breaking slightly at the realisation of what he had done. Sherlock had trusted him, and straight away he had broken that trust.

"I mean it, I understand, I'm fine. You haven't betrayed my trust because I won't be involved. I could never get over the fact he may have done this to others, and I'm relieved they can get justice." Sherlock insisted. The pale detective didn't look _fine,_ but he couldn't miss the relief in his features.

John had never thought his partner's continued distress could have been impacted by the guilt of others potentially suffering in the way he did because he had not reported him. Who knows, if they found others wiling to speak up, Sherlock may give a statement too. As a minor at the time, it is likely his identity would not be publicised. Either way, if Sherlock prosecuted or not, he would get closure.

"You need more sleep, shall we go to bed?" John asked, getting up from the chair and already moving to help his partner up.

"It's going to be a bad night. I can feel it." Sherlock admitted. Taking John's outstretched hand, the detective let his partner take his weight as came to his feet.

"Then it's a good job I'm here." John comforted.

Finally climbing into bed, John lay behind a curled up Sherlock, and pulled him into a tight, safe embrace. As he kissed the detectives curls, he realised he truly and utterly loved this man.

"Goodnight, love. I'm here." John whispered, ready to help him through the night.

* * *

 ** _Coming up, the nightmares..._**


	7. The Aftermath

_**Bit of a filler chapter.**_ _ **Sherlock said he felt like it was going to be a bad night... here's an inside into one of his nightmares:**_

* * *

 _Sherlock was in the lab as usual, but for some reason he was sat working in the pitch black. He felt his hands go through the motions of setting up an experiment, but he couldn't actually see anything. It should have been strange, but it felt oddly normal. After working for a few minutes, his eyes got accustomed to the dark, and he was able to make out the rough layout of the lab. Relaxing into his experiment, he felt sufficiently content._

 _Abruptly, something in the air changed. He felt increasingly tense, and his body was on hyperalert. It felt like there was danger near, but he couldn't see anything in the darkness. He couldn't hear anything either. Trying to relax again, Sherlock squeezed a drop of ethanol into his solution._

 _Suddenly, he felt someone grab his waist from behind, whilst simultaneously burrowing their head into his neck. He jumped out of fright, but the strong hands held him still on the lab bench. He felt the short hair against his skin, and he smelt the familiar aftershave. The man began to softly kiss his neck, and Sherlock froze with sheer terror. He had never experienced fear to the extent in which he physically couldn't move. He fought with his mind to send signals to his limbs to just_ move. _In Sherlock's mind, he was pulling away from the man behind him, yet in reality he was as completely static. The man's hands loosened their grip on his waist, but it didn't matter, he didn't need to be restrained when his mind had locked him to the chair. The broad hands made their way over his stomach, caressing their way slowly down to his thighs. If possible, his heart sped up even more, and he felt his throat tightening, making his breath come in hoarse, cut off pants. His heart was pounding, and the lack of breath was making him feel lightheaded, making the beakers on the desk before him sway. The man started moving the hands on his thigh closer together, and Sherlock made one last attempt to move…._

* * *

In a light sleep, John woke to the feeling of his partner's breath coming in short gasps. They had broken apart in their sleep, but John was still facing towards the detective with an arm strewn across his chest. Similarly, Sherlock was laid on his back, and had tangled his left leg behind John's. The doctor moved away from the detective, knowing touch worsened the situation. Apart from the breaths wracking his chest, his partner was unusually still. In nightmares, he would normally curl up in a ball, yet right now his arms were tense and pushed flat to the bed. His head was pressing further and further into the pillow below, and his toes were curled so tightly it had to be painful. John was about to speak when Sherlock sprung up out of the bed, like he had just broken free of tight chains hold his body to the bed.

Eyes wide and watering, the detective began to hyperventilate, finding it increasingly difficult to fight for breaths. John noticed straight away what the problem was.

"Love you're ok, you're having a panic attack." He soothed.

Hoping it would be received well, John ran a soothing hand down his partners back, rubbing the thin detective's back firmly to help him calm down. Thankfully, Sherlock did not pull away.

"I-… Can-t…" Sherlock gasped.

"Shh shh shh, it's ok, don't talk, I know." John comforted. "Can you bring your legs up in front of you and put your head between them?" He asked, helping the detective into the position once he had made the attempt to move. "Ok, just focus on my voice, we're going to breath together. Breathe _in_ , two, three, four, and _out_ , two, three, four…"

Sherlock battled with his lungs to follow his partner's instructions, and the doctor repeated the counting until the detective's breaths completely evened out. Sherlock was still shaking slightly, and he was scarily pale, but finally able to breath he fell back against the bed, exhausted.

"Same one?" John asked. They never discussed his nightmares, only whether it was a recurring one or a new one. However, maybe now he knew what they were about, he would open up to the doctor.

"New. It wasn't even the worst I've had, but somehow it was more terrifying." Sherlock confessed. It was like a damn had broken in the detective. John cares, and he never judges him, so maybe if he finally allowed himself to share the burden slightly, he could fully move on from the past.

John lay down beside his partner, looking at him openly, conveying the message that he could carry on if he wanted to, yet making sure not to push him.

"I couldn't move. I was literally frozen with terror. I tried so hard to make my limbs move; I was internally shouting at myself, but I couldn't get anything to respond. The feeling of having my mind turn on me like that is unlike anything I have ever experienced." Sherlock confessed.

John opened his arms and looked pointedly as his shoulder, inviting his partner to come in for a hug, only if he was ready to be touched. His eyes conveyed nothing but love and comfort. Sherlock relaxed as he saw the emotion there, and shuffled over to rest his head on his partner's broad, warm chest.

"I want you to know something, and you're not allowed to argue with me." John started, playing with the detective's soft curls. "I see the doubt in your eyes before you confide in me, worrying that I'm going to think differently of you in some way if you let me see emotion." Sherlock's mouth opened in protest, but the doctor quickly cut him off. "It's ok, it's natural. I just want you to know, that whatever you say to me, I will never judge you, and it will never change my opinion of you for the worst. When you confided in my last night, I was so worried I would treat you like you're wrapped in bubble wrap, but I now know I never will because I would be losing all the things I love about you the most: your fierce independence; your strength; your individuality. And I've realised something. Every time you open up to me, I don't see weakness. I see so much strength. I know how hard it is for you to give in to emotion and vulnerability, and I feel so privileged that I am the one you have trusted to confide in. I hate knowing how much hurt you have had to carry around for all this time. And you need to know it is ok to be so strongly affected by something that happened in your childhood, because you have never had the chance to get over it. Even if you had, your first relationship after one like that would never have gone smoothly. I want you to keep being open with me. I will never hurt you like he did, so you need to work with me so I don't do something unintentional that triggers you. We're going to work through this together, ok?" John finished, pulling his arms tighter around his partner.

Sherlock nodded into John's chest, increasing his grip on the soldiers t-shirt before bringing his eyes up to meet the comforting gaze above him.

"You love me?" Sherlock dared to ask.

John cast his mind back to his words, trying to figure out where he made the slip. He did not want to scare his partner away, but Sherlock did not look worried at the confession, just apprehensive.

"How could I not love you? You may be an insufferable git sometimes, but you're my insufferable git." John smiled.

Sherlock rested his head back on John's chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of his partner's shoulder. He wasn't ready yet to make the acclamation himself, but he knew John understood that. Instead, he relaxed into his doctor, a content smile on his lips as he finally slept through to morning.

* * *

 _ **Comments are the best kind of presents 3**_


	8. Reaching A New Normal

"So far I have found four children under the age of thirteen, nine children under the age of sixteen, and five more under the age of eighteen. It seems Sherlock sparked something in Trevor, as one year after Sherlock broke things off there is a string of attacks. Additionally, all eighteen boys looked extraordinarily like him. I have sent out agents to the victims, and the families of those still underaged over the week and twelve want to prosecute. We're confident when the other victims hear people are standing up they will be more inclined to want to step up too. " Mycroft reeled off. It was now certain the politician knew exactly what had happened to his younger brother, but he remained detached and cold. At first John was angry for the lack of compassion, but then he remembered he is a Holmes. The politician was most definitely affected, just not showing emotion.

John flicked his eyes down to Sherlock resting in his lap as they sat spending their day on the sofa. It had been over a week since the detective opened up to John, and the week had been interesting to say the least. Sherlock had returned to his usual self after that night, and the soldier was extremely relieved, even if it did mean he was at the brunt of the detective's intermittent rage. Once he was fully rested after the night he opened up, Sherlock was angry that John had gone to his brother. John guessed at the time when he said it was ok, Sherlock was too exhausted to mind who knew. However, once it sunk in that his brother was going to know everything that happened, he (reasonably) took it out on John. At first, John guessed his partner wasn't even aware he was angry and why. It started with silence and ignoring the doctor, though Sherlock soon became bored. Then it progressed to personal items going missing, such as a few of John's older (more hideous, Sherlock had said) jumpers. Next, Sherlock would snap at John for inconsequential and ridiculous things such as breathing too loudly or blaming him when his tea went cold before he could finish it. So Sherlock was definitely acting his usual self, just for once it was directed at John, which he was secretly glad for as it gave him a distraction. Finally, after only three days, Sherlock understood his anger and shouted at John. Mycroft had called claiming they had found a trail of possible rapes, and John estimates Sherlock had shouted and ranted from the opposite side of the living room for over twenty minutes with barely a breath. After ten minutes, Mrs Hudson had come to see what was happening, but quickly scurried away at the murderous glance Sherlock fired at her.

John felt absolutely terrible. He had acted rashly, and now he was paying for it. It wouldn't surprise John if his partner never trusted him again and asked him to move out. Mycroft seemed the most logical person to help at that helpless moment in time, but John had completely ignored the rivalry, hostility and pure hatred the brothers sometimes displayed to each other. The soldier simply stood and let Sherlock let go of his rage, feeling increasingly worse with each deserved insult. After twenty minutes, Sherlock finally halted his pacing and raged movements, after looking over at John. Maybe Sherlock saw the raw, genuine regret and pain in his partner's eyes, because he suddenly broke off mid sentence and meticulously deduced him. The anger drained from his face and the detective let his exhaustion finally take over. Sherlock permitted John take him to their room to put him to bed, and the doctor was surprised, but overwhelmingly relieved, when his partner held on to his jumper to prevent him from leaving. John lay down behind Sherlock and brought him into a tight embrace, pressing loving kisses into his hairline, shoulders and neck. Sherlock lay completely still the whole time.

"How many did Mycroft say there were?" He asked, his voice breaking from the shouting.

"So far eleven, but he estimates there are more." John answered quickly, wanting to keep Sherlock talking. However, there was a long pause as Sherlock stared unseeingly at the wall, the silence only broken by the two men's breathing. John had no clue what his partner was thinking.

"I want to hate you, but I want to forgive you. I don't want Mycroft to be involved, but I want justice for them without being involved. I am so angry, but I'm so exhausted." Sherlock confessed flatly, his voice betraying no emotion.

John didn't know what to say. Instead, he continued running his hand soothingly up his partner's arm and let Sherlock work out his feelings. No apology had worked before today, and it's not what he needed now. John started to nod off before his partner turning around to face him startled him awake. The piercing grey eyes studied his own.

"I do forgive you, John. Knowing Mycroft has found others changes things. I wish we had talked about it, but I understand." Sherlock said softly, wrapping his arms around John.

Once more, no words were needed. Sherlock saw at once the pure relief and happiness in his partner's eyes, and they stayed wrapped up until they fell asleep together for the first time in two days.

Thankfully, after that night, the days went much smoother. With no cases, Sherlock's boredom was difficult to control. However, there were thankfully new ways to distract his brilliant mind. Everything 'John' was completely new, and Sherlock was satisfied for hours just cuddling up to the doctor. Of course, when John left for work, he was fearful of whether the house would be standing when he got back. It was easy not to accidentally treat his partner like a victim when he was back to being his unbearable as always. Tricking Sherlock into eating, finding weird and dangerous experiments around the house and making him sleep was oddly comforting to John.

"John?" Mycroft questioned. Oh yes, he was on the phone.

"Sorry, Sherlock distracted me." John said, receiving an outraged pout from his partner followed by a childish sticking out of the tongue.

"And dare I ask how my dearest brother is holding up?" Mycroft drawled, seemingly indifferent.

"Not shooting the walls yet." John joked, earning another glare from the gorgeous man in his lap.

"Look after him, John." Mycroft said, sincerely. Before John could comment on the politician's break of unconcern, he launched back into the point of the call. "So now we need to decide who to bring in to deal with this. I would love to just make him disappear, but the victims and their families will not understand that. They need to see a conviction. The twelve we're in contact with are willing to go to court and prosecute if needed. The press are going to pick up on this case straight away. A board of director from the leading pharmaceutical company being accused of twelve counts of rape on under aged children is going to attract publicity. Now, I have a few people in mind…"

"Lestrade." Sherlock, said.

"Wha-" John stuttered, breaking Mycroft off.

"Put Mycroft on speaker." Sherlock asked, looking determined. "Lestrade is the only one for the job. I do not doubt my name is going to come up at some point, and Lestrade is the only one who will omit it completely if I wish. He is also the only one I trust to know such information, and rely on not to go to the papers."

"He did cross my mind." Mycroft mused.

"Then meddle and have it done," Sherlock said, getting up and making his way to his bedroom to get away from the conversation.

"Gregory Lestrade will be briefed tomorrow. I will call you in when Trevor has been brought into custody. Good day, John." Mycroft said, ending the call.

As soon as the call ended, John made his way after Sherlock, lightly knocking on the door even though it was open, to see if his presence was welcome.

"You can come in." Sherlock sighed, barely intelligible due to the fact he was laying face down on the bed with his head pressed into the pillows.

John slowly climbed onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard whilst running a comforting hand down his partner's back. John did not say anything. There was nothing really to say, but he was here if Sherlock needed to talk. John was beginning to think Sherlock had fallen asleep when he finally spoke.

"I hate this. I hate that it still affects me. This isn't me! How am I so sentimental about something so insignificant, when even the average person would have moved the hell on by now?" Sherlock muttered. He sounded tired and defeated.

"It isn't insignificant. People may react differently, but there is not a wrong or right way to behave. You're feeling a lot worse now because it has all been brought back again." John soothed.

Sherlock turned over onto his back in frustration, and looked to the ceiling. "But I'm a sociopath. I don't have feelings."

"I think we both know that's not true, Sherlock." John said, joining his partner by sliding down to lay on the bed beside him. "Look at me. It's ok to have feelings and emotions. It's more than ok to be human sometimes. It's just me."

Sherlock looked deeply in John's eyes, and instead of replying, placed a tender kiss upon John's forehead. Pulling back, he tried to show the intense emotions he was feeling for the soldier that he was unable to understand or convey. Seeing only love back, Sherlock softly captured the older man's lips. Both men relaxed into the kiss, moving closer together, legs entwined, and arms bringing them as close together as possible.

John felt his eyes well up at the intense emotion he was feeling for his partner in this moment. If this was all Sherlock could give him, he would die a happy man. Feeling a drop of water fall onto his cheek, Sherlock pulled back and looked up at John, confused and worried.

"Happy tears." John reassured, bringing his hand up to brush the hair out of his partner's eyes, letting his hand tangle into the curls.

"This is the happiest I've ever felt." Sherlock said, trying to keep a nonchalant tone.

" Me too." John agreed, smiling so much it almost hurt.

"Oh god, now I'm getting cheesy." Sherlock groaned.

They both burst into giggles, feeling lighter than air. Breathless, John recaptured his partner's lips, though both found it hard to kiss due to their inability to stop smiling. For once, luck was in their favour, and no one disturbed them for the rest of the day.

* * *

 ** _Sorry this chapter took so long. I am feeling really bad about my writing right now, and I don't know why. I am second guessing everything I write and I feel like I'm dragging sections of the story out that I thought were important, but now rereading I don't know if it is, and if I'm focusing too much on Sherlock's feelings. I don't know... Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter and I can go back to feeling better about my writing!_**


	9. Only Sherlock Can Get Him To Confess

As John walked into Scotland Yard, it soon became apparent Lestrade was not completely briefed about the nature of the case. Bloody Mycroft.

"I don't understand, this is definitely not my area. I work homicides and abductions, not paedophilia and rape for goodness sake." Lestrade exclaimed. The detective inspector had pulled John into his office, demanding to know what was going on.

"I'm sure it will all become clear, Greg. All you need to know is this involves the Holmes brothers." John placated. "Only you were trusted to take this case."

Lestrade exhaled loudly. Running his hands through his greying hair. "I'm too old for this. And I definitely do not like being given orders from above in this way."

John sympathised with Lestrade, but he knew once the detective inspector understood the complexity of the case, he would calm down.

"Right then. The team of specialists who will be assisting us have briefed me, and we're ready to start. Victor Trevor is in the interrogation room." Lestrade said, shaking into detective mode. He led John to the room, and the doctor felt his stomach roll at the sight of the man in the room.

Victor Trevor looked completely calm and polite. He was leant back gracefully on the wooden chair, looking intriguingly around the room. Even sitting, John could tell the man must be taller than Sherlock, and he was definitely well built. His dark hair was styled effortlessly, and his suit screamed money. Looking at him through the mirror, John could see straight away the man who had a hold over Sherlock. He was arrogant yes, but when Victor's eyes met the two-way mirror, John saw a glint of the darkness.

"Are you coming in or viewing from the mirror?" Lestrade asked.

Even though he was shocked to be granted the invitation, John declined, knowing he would not be able to remain impartial. As Lestrade moved to enter the room, a woman he did not recognise followed after the detective inspector, and two other unrecognisable faces joined John in room with him. As Lestrade started speaking, Donavan also joined them in the room.

"I hear Sherlock works with you?" Victor asked, ignoring Lestrade's probing opening questions.

"Sherlock has nothing to do with this. We have statements from fifteen-"

"Sherlock has everything to do with this." Victor cut in. "I will only talk to him."

Victor leant back in his chair and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. He refused to answer any questions, or even look at the inspectors after his request. Soon, Lestrade was forced to end the interview.

Seconds later, Lestrade was at John's side. They watched the man smirk, never once breaking his relaxed composure,

"You don't understand Greg, Sherlock can't do this. I won't allow it." John choked, shaking slightly.

"I know I don't understand, but I do know Sherlock can save fifteen people, some of them children, from having to stand up in court. He's our only chance, John. We have to ask him." Lestrade pleaded.

Unbeknown to them, a man had entered the room after the detective inspector. He caught their attention by clearing his throat impatiently. Turning, John's eyes filled with horror, and Lestrade looked relieved. Sherlock was surprisingly composed, his cold mask of indifference firmly in place.

"It's ok John, I need to do this." Sherlock consoled. He then turned to Lestrade. "What's the plan?"

"Well-".

"Wait! I need a second alone with Sherlock please." John insisted, his tone indicating he would not take no as an answer.

After a nod from Lestrade, everyone left the room, leaving the two flatmates in private.

"I already knew this was going to happen, and I have prepared myself for it." Sherlock stated.

John moved forwards and took the consulting detective's hand. "I can't let you go in there Sherlock. I can't-" John's voice broke with emotion. Felling completely helpless.

"John. John, look at me." Sherlock insisted, lifting his partner's face with a single finger under the doctor's chin until their gaze met. "I need to do this. I have sat feeling helpless for too long. This is my chance for closure, and I'll get closure for all the others too. Do you understand that?" Sherlock asked, visibly determined.

John did understand it, but it did not make him like the idea one bit.

"One promise, Sherlock. If things get too much, say 'red' and I will have the interview stopped straight away, ok? Promise me?" John pleaded.

"Of course." Sherlock promised, placing a soft kiss on John's lips before steeling himself for what was ahead.

* * *

John watched his partner walk into the room. The doctor clenched his fists, feeling completely helpless. He wanted to take Sherlock far away, refuse Lestrade using Sherlock in this way. He wanted to protect him from this. Logically, he knew this was the best thing for the case. If anyone could crack Victor, it was Sherlock. But at what cost to the consulting detective?

Lestrade and Donavan stood beside him, and he knew they were going to finally understand exactly why the case was put their way.

" _The_ Sherlock Holmes." Victor purred, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward onto the table.

Sherlock took the sat opposite, perfecting the air of calm and looking extremely bored.

"Really Victor? You always were pretty dramatic, but not speaking until I arrived? Surely you haven't become boring after all this time." Sherlock drawled.

John saw a glint of anger in Victor's eyes, but he quickly supressed it, playing the charismatic, innocent businessman.

"It's been too long, Sherl, but you haven't changed one bit." Victor winked, making John physically recoil away from the two-way mirror.

"Come on, Victor. We both know how much I despise small talk. Just tell me why you did it and I can go back to forgetting your existence again." Sherlock retorted, knowing exactly how to play the man.

"Oh Sherl. I know you never forgot my existence. Do I still have pride of place in your dreams? You still fill mine." Victor tormented. Thankfully, Sherlock did not seem to show any reaction to the man's words, instead simply rolling his eyes.

"Well, this is boring me as usual, Victor. See you in court. You should probably get yourself a lawyer." Sherlock fired, getting up from his seat and walking towards the exit.

"How dare you walk away from me you slut?" Victor screamed, breaking his well-practiced demeanour.

John heard everyone in the room gasp, eyes glued to the two men in the room. He could basically see the clogs turning their heads, finally understanding.

Meanwhile, Sherlock remained unaffected, merely turning around back to face Victor with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you not understand? I still own you Sherlock. And I was right wasn't I? No one but me will ever want you. No one but me would put up with _the_ _freak_. I have watched you, you know. No one stays around for long." Victor mocked, standing up. He was beginning to become desperate for a reaction, forgetting completely where he was. When he got no response, Victor increased his taunts.

"I still remember the way you screamed, Sherl. None of those others even slightly lived up to you. As I fucked them, all I saw was your petrified face. I still remember the expression perfectly, when you realised what I was capable of; when you realised I owned you." Victor provoked, his voice dark and menacing.

"You were clever, Victor. Not one of the fifteen boys went to the police. How?" Sherlock questioned, pretending to be interested and jealous to extract a concrete confession.

"The same reason you never said anything, Sherl. And you underestimate me. I made _eighteen_ pretty little boys scream just as you did. Made them plead me to stop." Victor crooned threateningly, beginning to gain distance on Sherlock. John felt his heart beat out of his chest, preparing himself to run in and punch the man if he touched Sherlock.

"You're pathetic." Sherlock said in a low voice, making Victor stop in his tracks. "All this time, I let you have a hold on me, and I finally see you for what you are: pathetic. Rot in jail, Victor."

Sherlock calmly made his way out of the room, walking blindly to the back room to find John. The soldier kept his distance, cautious of making a wrong move that would trigger his partner. Their eyes met, and Sherlock's knees buckled. Once again everyone left the room to let the two men have their private moment. John thanked them, and then moved forwards, kneeling down to match Sherlock's height and tried to convey how proud he was in just looks.

"I did it." Sherlock whispered. "I did it, I did it." He repeated, like he was trying to convince himself rather than tell John.

"You did." John admired. "I am so, so proud of you, Sherlock."

At that, Sherlock stumbled forward and clung onto John as if his life depended on it. Maybe in that moment, it did.

"Take me home, John."

* * *

 _ **I really need to thank everyone who commented/favourited after that last chapter update. I was only trying to explain my late upload, but confiding in you all that I have been having problems with viewing my own writing has sparked a lot of lovely comments and I felt much better editing this chapter for uploading, so I cannot thank you enough for your support 3**_

 _ **The story is unfortunately coming to a close very soon. However, this is the beginning of a series of stories that will deal with our favourite boys overcoming and living with struggles such as suicide, self harm, sexual assault, domestic abuse and drug addiction. If you enjoyed this story, please do subscribe to me and look out for 'The' Verses to read more by me!**_

 _ **Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**_


	10. To The Moon And Back

**_Chapter warnings: as I promised at the beginning, this chapter contains detailed descriptions of consensual male/male sex._**

* * *

"And I stand outside the courtroom today where Victor Trevor, board of director for Pfizer pharmaceuticals, has pleaded guilty to nineteen counts of child rape-"

John shut off the television, looking down at his partner asleep in his lap. The last few weeks had been a rollercoaster, and somehow Sherlock had been the sanest. The first day was heart breaking for John, watching the consulting detective stare into nothingness and try work through his mind palace to put everything back in order. However, after that, Sherlock got steadily better, back to ordering the doctor around in no time, and testing his patience with crazy experiments.

John did not understand that day why Sherlock needed to go into the interrogation room, but now he did. Sherlock needed to reclaim the control from Victor. This whole time, his partner had been struggling because he felt like his abuser still had the upper hand somehow. The detective had not had an intense nightmare in over two weeks.

The craziest experience had to be when Donavan stopped around the flat. Sherlock did not know she had been in the room that day, and was extremely confused when the usually antagonistic sergeant brought a peace offering of flowers and chocolate to the flat. It had elicited the first genuine laugh out of the detective when John had patiently explained she was not trying to ask him on a date, but say sorry.

And the weirdest experience was when Mycroft came around for the first time since John had called him that fateful night. The doctor came in from work to see the two brothers sitting opposite each other, Sherlock in his own chair and Mycroft perched on the soldiers, silently playing chess for hours. Mycroft looked much thinner than the last time he saw him, but John guessed he mustn't have looked his best either. Surprisingly though, Sherlock did not make one remark about this. From what John could gather, neither man had actually spoken aloud the whole visit, just periodically looked at each other intently as they made a move. To John, it seriously looked like they were reading each other's minds. The soldier tried not to pry and keep in the kitchen or other side of the living room to let them work out their differences, but stayed close enough so if any fight broke out he could be there straight away and mediate. However, his worry was unwarranted. After two hours he watched Sherlock win the third game and Mycroft stood up to leave. Any tension in the room had disappeared, and the brother's nodded to each other with a slight smile. However, when Mycroft moved to gather his briefcase and umbrella, he was halted when his younger brother vaulted towards him and burrowed himself into the politician's chest. If John weren't seated at the time, he would have probably dropped to the ground in shock. Mycroft looked equally startled, but automatically wrapped his arms around his little brother. The hug didn't last long, and Sherlock went back to his chair as if nothing peculiar had happened. Mycroft turned to pick up his belongings and said goodbye to John. Then with more emotion than John thought the politician was capable of, he said: "same time next week, brother mine?" Sherlock gave a quick nod and then resumed staring at the ceiling. To his word, Mycroft came around each week. They rarely talked but John felt the two brothers were the closest they had ever been since they were children.

John and Sherlock had become infinitely closer too. Sherlock was finally able to let down all of his subconscious barriers, and John had been able to relax in the knowledge his partner was going to be truly ok. They had breached the conversation of intimacy, and everything in that department was going smoothly. Their first time was a little shaky, as was expected, but their ability to giggle and comfort one another through it made it a first time for them both to remember fondly. Additionally, following their public displays of affection in The Yard, their relationship was out. Mrs Hudson couldn't be happier that "my two boys have finally given into love, but that doesn't mean I want to be woken at all hours with your antics. I know it's the honeymoon period darlings, but my heart is much too old for that".

Carefully, John picked up his partner in a bridal style hold, and took them through to their bedroom. When he placed Sherlock down on the bed, Sherlock stirred awake.

"Go back to sleep, honey." John soothed, pulling on his sleep clothes and taking off his partner's dressing gown so he would be more comfortable.

Instead, Sherlock turned to face John when he climbed into bed, looking like he was building up the courage to say something. John waited patiently.

"What is love, John? I mean… I know the physiological reactions to attraction and lust, and the so-called indicators of love. But how do you know what you feel for me is truly love?" Sherlock finally asked.

"That's a big question." John mused, collecting his thoughts to give his partner a sufficient response. "I guess I just 'know'. I haven't felt like this with anyone before. I care for your happiness over my own. When you smile, and especially when I've put it there myself, I get butterflies in my stomach. I would die for you, and I have killed for you. They say love hurts, and yes, in some ways it does, as nothing hurts as much when I see you upset. But I also disagree with that statement, because it feels like the easiest and most natural thing in the world to love you. You changed my life the day I limped into this house. I was instantly a better person for just knowing you. I love your crazy mind, your intolerable mood swings, but mostly, I cannot see my life without you."

Sherlock stayed frozen, staring into the older man's warm, kind eyes.

"What that a sufficient answer?" John asked, smiling.

"I love you too, John," Sherlock said softly, blushing slightly but keeping his eyes fixed on his partners. John searched the detective's eyes for hesitance, and found only love and trust shining back. Unable to hold back, John slipped his arm on the slight man's back, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Things got heated quickly, emotions running higher than ever. Honeymoon period indeed.

If possible, Sherlock deepened the kiss, pushing his hips without hesitance into his partners growing arousal. John gasped as the friction, groaning as the pleasure overcame him.

"Make love to me." Sherlock whispered, capturing eye contact to convey his honesty, need and trust before things got too heated.

"Are you sure?" John checked, understanding straight away what his partner was asking. In their extensive discussions, the doctor had assured Sherlock he did not need that from their relationship, and he was happy to always be on the receiving end when they made love that way. However, after experiencing it himself for the first time, he wanted nothing other than to take care of his lover in that way too. It was an overwhelming experience, and better than the soldier had ever imagined. However, he knew it was unlikely Sherlock would like to engage in that aspect of sex, and John did not feel like he was missing out in any way. Having Sherlock sleep beside him each night was more than John had even dreamed to have.

"I think you're more nervous than me, John." Sherlock joked. "You know you can trust me to ask you to stop if I should need to. But I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't completely ready for this. I've waited thirty-two years for you, I think I'm more than ready."

Before John could overthink, Sherlock pulled his partner back so every part of their bodies were touching, and brought him in for a toe tingling kiss. The detective snaked his hand down from John's shoulder, caressing the skin as he made his way down to cup the growing arousal in the front of John's pyjama pants.

Groaning, John moved positions, placing his knees either side of the pale man's body and hovering above him ensuring no parts of them were touching. "This is about you." John breathed.

Sherlock dropped his hands onto the bed, holding his partner's knees either side his body as John leant down to kiss his neck. Slowly, John made his way down his partner's body, nipping lightly at the pronounced collarbone. Enjoying the noises he was eliciting from the detective, John moved backwards to sit lightly on Sherlock's thighs, pulling his partner's loose t-shirt off as he moved. Before Sherlock dropped his hands back onto John's legs, he tugged expectantly at the soldier's own t-shirt, smiling when the item was quickly removed. Now free to explore more, John tickled his fingers down Sherlock's bare chest, skimming his hardened nipples. The detective twitched beneath him, once again leaning back his head and closing his eyes to enjoy the sensations. Surprising his partner, John leant down and licked a circle around the areola, pulling back to blow cold air onto the trail of wet skin. Sherlock groaned, and John finally brought the hardened nub between his lips, grazing the sensitive skin teasingly with his teeth. His hand had moved to the other nipple, rolling the skin with just enough pressure between his thumb and forefinger. The detective moaned once again, his hips rolling up looking for friction.

John took his time moving down the pale, lean chest, making sure no piece of skin was left unexplored. Just as Sherlock was becoming impatient, John hooked his index fingers under the pyjama bottoms either side his waist. As he pulled down the loose fitted, silk trousers, John lightly nipped at the sensitive skin inside his lover's thighs. As the silk glided over Sherlock's impressive arousal, he let out the deepest moan yet. The sound of his partner's encouragement sent a jolt to John's increasingly hard cock, increasingly excited by Sherlock's pleasure.

"Please." Sherlock breathed, looking at John with only trust and arousal.

John slipped off the bed quickly to take off his remaining pants, and Sherlock reached into the bedside table for lube and condoms. As they were both clean, they had foregone protection the other way around, yet they had already discussed if this were to ever happen, using protection would hopefully avoid any harmful triggers for Sherlock when it came to cleaning up. John was therefore unsurprised to see the new additions to the drawer, but happy in the knowledge his partner had thoroughly thought this through enough to buy them. Relaxing slightly, John crawled back up the bed, kissing up Sherlock's leg as he moved. When he reached the top of the detective's pale thigh, he stilled and looked up to his partner for confirmation.

"John, please." Sherlock pleaded, completely overcome with pleasure, but needing so much more.

"You tell me straight away if you want to stop, ok love?" John instructed. After receiving a steady nod, John reached for the bottle of lubricant.

Not yet opening the bottle, the doctor leant forwards to lightly trace his tongue over his partner's testicle. Bringing it gently into his mouth, John lightly sucked the skin and Sherlock's cock bounced as he moaned loudly, trying to refrain from thrusting his hips up in search for much needed friction.

"John." Sherlock groaned, pleading for John to finally take him into his mouth.

"Good things come to those who wait, Sherlock." John teased, switching his attention to the testicle. Once John felt that Sherlock was completely falling apart and relaxed, he flicked open the cap of the bottle and coated two fingers.

"I'm going to suck you as I prepare you, is that ok?" John asked, proud of how composed he managed to sound under the circumstances.

"Oh god, yes please." Sherlock moaned, looking down at his partner lovingly, eyes blown impossibly wide.

John moved back down, bringing a cushion with him to place under his partner's hips. Happy with the position, John finally dragged his tongue up the underside of Sherlock's cock, groaning in return when his partner twitched and moaned. Swirling his tongue around the tip, John match the movement with his index finger on the detectives puckered entrance. Sherlock stilled, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. Just as John was about to pull back, his partner let out a low groan and relaxed, resuming eye contact. It was as if Sherlock had to battle with his own mind to let himself enjoy the sensations. Picking up the ministrations on Sherlock's impressive length, John kept eye contact as he slowly slid his index finger into his partner. After two gentle pumps, he located the prostate quickly with a doctor's precision, making the act about pleasure as soon as possible.

Sherlock writhed below him, soon asking for more, any hesitation long gone. There was no nervousness from Sherlock as the doctor worked him open, He knew exactly how to keep him on the brink of pleasure, ensuring no pain or discomfort was felt at the intrusion.

"John, please." Sherlock pleaded once again.

John slipped out his fingers from Sherlock to prepare himself, but once again felt a disabling jolt of nervousness. He must have paused long enough for Sherlock to realise there was a problem, and the younger man looped his arms around the doctor's neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Sherlock loosened his hold around John's neck, and reached out his left hand to find the condom. His hands were steady as he rolled the latex down his partner's shaft.

"I love you, John." Sherlock whispered, his voice full of emotion, gazing intently into his partner's eyes with only trust.

"I love you so, so much." John choked. The irony of John being the one having to be comforted did not escape either men, but it only confirmed Sherlock's trust that John could never hurt him and this was going to be ok.

"So show me. Please, John. I need you." Sherlock asked softly, gliding his fingers down the older man's back.

John leant down once more to capture Sherlock's lips. His left hand thread through the younger man's raven curls, moving to support his head and pull him impossibly closer in the kiss. With his other hand, John coated his covered erection with more than enough lube and brought himself back to full arousal after the few minutes of hesitance. He had never wanted somebody so much, and the pure want in Sherlock's eyes gave John the courage to line himself up with the younger man.

Sherlock made the first move, pushing his hips up slightly so the tip of John's cock pressed gently into him. Both Sherlock and John gasped at the intrusion, and after only a short time the detective was pleading for more. They kept eye contact the whole time as John slowly and gently thrust completely into his partner. Only when John bottomed out did either man breathe again. He watched Sherlock's face intently as he got used to the feeling, looking for any signs of discomfort or panic. However, in that moment, there were no thoughts of Victor, no thoughts of anything, other than John. It must have been only a minute later that Sherlock asked John to move, though it had felt like a lifetime for both of them. John loosened his grip on his partner's curls, and placed his other hand next to Sherlock's shoulder to support his weight as he leaned further over him to get a better angle and push in slightly further. Sherlock groaned with pleasure, and John relaxed again, finally allowing himself to feel his own pleasure after knowing his partner was truly comfortable.

Keeping eye contact the whole time, John began to find a gentle, but passionate, rhythm. Words of love and enjoyment fell from their lips, and fingers teasingly glided over whatever body part's of the other they could reach. After a particularly strong thrust, Sherlock arched his back and gasped as John brushed his prostate.

"Oh God, John. There, there, there." Sherlock moaned, becoming increasingly close to release.

Not far off himself, John repositioned to ensure Sherlock's prostate was hit with each thrust. He then brought his hand from his partner's hair to wrap around his leaking cock between them, matching the measured pulls with their thrusts. Teasing hands turned into tight holds, almost as if they were trying to become one person. The noises made by each men picked up, and Sherlock's eyes started to droop with pleasure.

"Come for me, honey." John panted, tightening his hold on Sherlock's cock and pushing his partner over the brink of pleasure.

As Sherlock came, he cried John's name, tightening almost impossibly around the doctor. After just two more thrusts, John followed his partner into complete bliss. Sherlock had closed his eyes, smiling fondly as he steadied his breathing. John was thankfully aware enough to carefully ease out of Sherlock, grab a few tissues to wipe up Sherlock's stomach, tie the condom and drop them at the side of the bed before collapsing down next to Sherlock and pulling the younger man onto his chest. Sherlock wrapped his arms loosely around his partner, and both men basked in the silence as their heart rates returned to normal. John felt tears prick his eyes at how perfect the moment was, and he didn't mention anything when he felt a drop of water fall onto his chest from Sherlock. John couldn't put into words how much he loved this man. His heart may be calming, but it was expanding with love for the detective resting on his chest.

Soon Sherlock shifted so his head was resting on John's shoulder so they could see each other. John was about to speak, but Sherlock brought their lips together for a lazy kiss instead. The two men remained wrapped up with each other, becoming tired as they basked in their post-coital bliss.

"I love you." Sherlock whispered, not wanting to break the perfect moment.

"To the moon and back." John replied softly, joining his partner in a deep, relaxed sleep.

* * *

 ** _I really hope you guys enjoyed this story, I definitely enjoyed writing it! I just want to say thank you to everyone who gave favourited/comment etc. throughout this story. You had the nicest things to say and any help was greatly appreciated. Seriously, thank you so so much!_**

 ** _Some people have asked for an epilogue. This is definitely something I want to do, but can I get some ideas? What do you guys want to see?_**


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